Green Sprout Haven – Late Afternoon

Mark showed up just before closing time, like he always did when he wanted a few quiet minutes with Kyle without an audience.

Kyle was sweeping near the back, hair slightly mussed, apron dusted with soil. He looked up when the bell rang, and his expression softened into something that wasn’t quite a smile — but close.

“You’re early,” Kyle said.

“You’re closed,” Mark replied, locking the door behind him.

Kyle gave a quiet laugh, resting the broom against the wall. “Want coffee?”

“Always.”

They sat by the counter in silence for a while, sipping coffee while the last rays of sunlight filtered through the hanging plants. It felt peaceful, but something lingered beneath the surface — a gentle tension, like the air before a storm.

Kyle broke it first.

“I kissed Ryan.”

Mark didn’t move. Not a twitch. His cup stayed still in his hands.

Kyle swallowed. “It was… it didn’t mean anything. It was stupid. I just—he looked so hurt. And I thought if I gave him a piece of what he wanted, he’d let go.”

Mark was quiet for a beat. “Did he?”

Kyle shook his head. “No. And I felt worse.”

Still, Mark didn’t lash out. Didn’t pull away. He just set his cup down gently.

“Kyle,” he said, voice low, calm, but firm. “You don’t need to sacrifice yourself to keep other people from hurting.”

“I know,” Kyle whispered. “But I’ve always done that. It’s hard to stop.”

Mark leaned in, resting his elbows on the counter. His gaze searched Kyle’s face — not angry, but steady. Present.

“I’m not going to tell you what to feel. Or how to fix things,” he said. “But if you ever feel like you have to kiss someone else just to avoid conflict... I want you to ask yourself who you’re really trying to protect.”

Kyle looked down at his lap, heart pounding. “I didn’t want to lose what we have over a simple jealousy.”

“Why do I have to choose, when there's nothing to choose from.”he grumbled.

Mark’s hand found his across the counter.

“You’re not losing me,” he said gently. “Not unless you let go first.”

Kyle blinked back the sudden sting in his eyes and gave a small nod.

Then Mark smiled — warm, amused — and added, “But next time, just bake the guy a cookie instead of kissing him. Easier for everyone.”

Kyle choked out a laugh, the tension breaking like a dam.

“I’m serious,” Mark said, smirking. “Chocolate chip. Almond flour if you want to get fancy.”

Kyle smiled, finally. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And as Mark squeezed his hand once before letting go, Kyle felt it: forgiveness, quiet understanding, and the subtle but unmistakable gravity of someone who stayed.